Limitations
by Killjoyncis
Summary: Episode response to Silver Wars. Gibbs and Tony both have issues with women. The problem is that they are very different issues.


Author's note: This story is in the same universe as all the others that I have written, and at the very least, you should have read A Good Day in order to understand how Tony's mom died in this series. Thanks, as always, to my reviewers and readers. Enjoy!

Tony knew that he expected a lot from Gibbs. He also knew that Gibbs expected a lot from him. Generally, this was a positive work environment, and it allowed for both men to showcase their strengths and downplay their weaknesses. One of their shared frailties was women. Gibbs tended to overprotect, overreact, and act impulsively around them. Tony played them. He complimented them, wined them, dined them, showed them an excellent time, and then showed them the door. At least that was his reputation. In reality, he didn't sleep with random women very often and kept his one night stands to a strict minimum. Marriage was out of the question: both his biological father and Gibbs had demonstrated the train wreck that was modern matrimony in a way that made Tony's feet not just cold, but made of ice. He was not made for marriage…he was a Dinozzo.

So when Ziva was accepted with open arms into Gibbs' life, Tony tried not to let it get to him. After all, he knew what Gibbs was like. And Ziva had killed her half brother and "saved his life", so Tony guessed that that earned her some trust. The problem was that the woman weakness that Tony had butted right up against Gibbs' limitation: Gibbs trusted them all and Tony trusted none of them.

It was an unpleasant coincidence that Ziva's first case with them had to do with the Civil War. Tony remembered less than fondly the "bonding" experiences that his father took him on before his mother's death. One of the corporate bigwigs that Anthony Dinozzo Senior was trying to lure into investing was a Civil War buff and often participated in re-enactments. Several times over a horribly hot summer when Tony was 8, he was forced into full uniform so that he could participate with his dad, the bigwig, and the bigwig's obnoxious son, Arthur. The fact that he'd had to carry buckets of feces around in 95 degree weather wearing more wool than several sheep was clearly more amusing to his fellow workers than it had been to an eight-year-old who smelled excrement for months after the summer ended.

He held it together for the most part until Ziva volunteered to drive them back to headquarters. Tony struggled with memories of the accident that killed his mother only when in the car with reckless female drivers. Kate had been a very competent driver, and so he'd had no problem with her behind the wheel. Ziva, however, was not only reckless, but arrogant about it as well. He tried to ease her back a bit, his tone as casual as he could make it with the fear threatening to overwhelm him.

"Could you maybe slow down a bit? You screw up the time space continuum and get us back to headquarters before we left, and there will be a lot of messy paperwork to fill out."

"What's the matter, Tony? Afraid there is a woman alive who can out drive you?" Ziva's grin was triumphant. It exhausted him, as did all conversations with her. Why couldn't they talk without trying to one up each other?

"Actually I think we are both a little afraid that you will out drive us right into Ducky's lab." McGee, thankfully, did not sound as enamored by the new girl as he had been at first. Tony smiled a bit, then swallowed a gasp as the van took yet another corner on two wheels.

"Hey, not so fast!" Really, what was her deal? "I always drive fast! It's the best way to avoid possible IEDs and ambushes." She disregarded the chorus of horns from other motorists who clearly thought that she was either insane or on a suicide mission. Tony swallowed bile at the thought and tried to ground himself. It was a sunny day, not a rainy night. They were in a van, not a Jag. He was an experienced agent, not a scared child. Tim was with him, so he wasn't alone. And Ziva, although 0bviously insane, was clearly NOT suicidal.

"You're in America now. I wouldn't worry about it. How about this? Slow down or I'll puke on you." He was taking short breaths through his mouth to avoid vomiting, but he wasn't going to be able to hold it for much longer.

"Tony, why don't you like the American Civil War?" Her tone was conversational; appropriate for a leisurely drive through the country, not a high speed chase through America's capital city.

"I don't want to talk about it." No way was this woman getting anything from him. He was not Gibbs and he was not taken in by her super spy skills nor her little girl lost attitude she exuded when she thought it could earn her sympathy. He may not be an MIT graduate like McGee, but he had a pretty good instinct when it came to reading people. Right now, his instinct was screaming at him that Ziva could not be trusted. Not now, not ever.

"It's because of his father."

Tony swiveled his head to stare at the young man next to him. "Was she talking to you, Probie? Besides, how do you know anything about it?"

McGee looked smug. "It's called a computer, Tony. They put all kinds of things on there. Like detailed background reports about recruits and interviews with their friends and relatives. The interview with your dad was interesting, but I actually enjoyed reading the one with your nanny more. She seemed like a real pistol. What was her name…Greta? Gwendolyn?"

Tony closed his eyes. No way was he going to get out of the van without throwing up. He couldn't even work up any real anger towards McGee, even though the kid had snooped into locked files, possibly committing an offence against national security. The fact that the woman in question was more a maternal figure than his mother had ever been did not combat the nausea. "Gretchen. Her name was Gretchen. And once again, you were not a part of this conversation. Stay out of it Probie."

"_Gretchen, may I have another cookie?"_

"_No matter how prettily you ask me, jung Meister, you may not have another cookie. You'll spoil your appetite." Despite her stern tone, Gretchen's eyes were kind as she pulled his sailor suit from his closet. Tony scowled at the outfit. Stupid sissy clothes. Nobody else had to dress up like it was Halloween every time their parents had a party. And he didn't even get to wear a cool one, like Magnum P.I. It wasn't fair._

"_It's not fair," he said plaintively. "Why do I hafta wear that dumb outfit?"_

"_Miss Katherine specifically said that you were to wear this tonight. You know how much she likes it on you." Gretchen avoided his eyes. Tony knew that when she did that, she was following rules that she didn't agree with in order to keep the peace. He didn't know what that meant exactly; his dictionary said that peace meant not having war or anxiety. But there was lots of anxiety in the Dinozzo house. He knew that because his mom had to take medicine because of hers. _

"_Why don't they like me?"_

_Gretchen looked at him in confusion. "Who are you talking about, mausi?"_

"_My parents. Why don't they like me?"_

_She walked to him and gathered him into her arms. Usually, Tony avoided hugs. He was too old to be babied and besides, Dinozzos didn't hug. But this time, he allowed it and even hugged her back. She smelled like spring rain and the flowers in the front gardens. Tony liked the scent and thought she was pretty, even though she was old. Maybe even older than his parents._

"_Anthony, they do like you. They just don't always show you that they do."_

"_Why wouldn't they show me? Did I do something wrong?" He was not going to cry like a baby. Dinozzo men didn't cry. He saw his mom crying all the time, especially in the fall. He had seen her crying a lot, and it usually was while she was looking at an old picture in a pretty, sparkly frame. He'd tried to see the picture many times. The one time he had gotten close was the only time he remembered his mom hitting him: a slap to the cheek that had bruised and swollen almost instantly._

"_Sometimes, when people have a tragedy in their lives, they don't get over it. All they can do is think about that loss over and over, and they ruin their lives wishing to undo the sadness." Her tone was very careful, and Tony could sense that, that like always, something was being kept from him._

"_But you can't do that. You can't undo things. And what did they lose?" He knew that Gretchen was aware of the secret. He also knew that she didn't want to tell him._

"_Not what. Who. And before you ask, I am not saying anything else. Just please, get dressed for the dinner and then try to behave for your parents. Don't give them a reason to be frustrated with you, spatz."_

"_All right I'll try."_

_Later, he would remember that conversation as he sat in his room on his third day of punishment. Gretchen had been fired, another form of punishment for Tony, who had snuck into his mother's room after being dismissed from the party, and tried to look at the picture in the sparkly frame. It was an image of his mother and father, looking young and impossibly happy, their arms around each other's waist. Between them was a young girl. She looked to be about eight, the same as Tony was now, and she had the same greenish eyes that he had. Gretchen told him were actually "hazel". Before he could look at the picture for any longer, though, his mother had walked in and shouted at him. Startled, he'd dropped the picture onto the hardwood floor, shattering the frame. After that, things got hazy and painful. He didn't remember much, but he did recall her shouting that she wished he had died instead of "her". Then he was in his room, bruised with his clothing torn. Then, like a snapshot, he felt Gretchen kiss his forehead. There were drops of water landing on his cheek as she did and he wondered if it was raining in his bedroom. She whispered, "der Herr schützen Sie", and then she was gone…_

The sound of squealing tires jerked him from his memories and he blinked, unaware of his surroundings for a moment. He looked blankly at McGee, who was eyeing him with a bit of sympathy, which he did not need or want.

Ziva, though, had her eye on the prize. "Ahh. So you didn't get along with your father? Hmm. Explains a lot."

Of course she knew this…they had already discussed it in a roundabout way while standing outside her hotel before she'd shot Ari. But now she was performing for Tim. She wanted him to be impressed that she'd managed to "discover" something about Tony that he didn't like to talk about. She wanted him in awe of her. Never had he met a more manipulative woman. And Gibbs trusted her.

"My father and I got along fine." Blatant lies now, but he needed to salvage this somehow.

"If you say so. I think it's best to talk about things instead of burying them inside." Tony snorted at Ziva's response. Apparently they were both lying now. If this was truly a test for Tim, then Tony had to see who McGee was going to support. When the youngest agent spoke, it was all Tony could do not to sigh in happiness.

"What about you? Your father? Deputy Director David, what's he like?" Sometimes Tony wondered if Tim would make a good field agent, but times like this made it clear that he would be just fine. The kid had instincts, and on occasion would actually respond to them.

Of course, it was sad that the only way Tony could repay his loyalty was to vomit on his shoes. But the last turn was too much. Ziva's face blended for a moment, and Tony was suddenly blinking rainwater and blood out of his eye as he tried to release his seatbelt. Disconcerted, his body finally gave up and he heaved until he was spitting out nothing but bile.

"Sorry." Ziva was triumphant. She had won this round, and was well on her way to winning everything.

"So Gibbs, when you look up 'sucker for a pretty face' in the dictionary, does it always have a picture of you? Or is that just in some of the earlier editions?"

Gibbs stiffened. "What the hell, Abs? I don't have time to figure out what you are referring to, so why don't you just spell it out for me?"

"Sure I can do that. Z-I-V-A. Or how about S-H-E-P-H-E-R-D? Seems like they have both totally steamrolled you." Abby was disgusted and she was not trying to hide it.

"No one steamrolled me."

"Really? You've known Ziva how long? And you already trust her? Why?"

"Because she shot a man to save me. Because that man was her half brother and she knew if her father found out that she was the one who killed him, he would disown her. Or have her killed too. Seems like she's earned my trust." Gibbs did not like fighting with Abby, but he wanted her to get along with Ziva.

"Is that why you're treating her like your favorite Christmas present?" Her tone was petulant now, but she was backing down a bit. He smiled, realizing where this was going.

"C'mon Abs. You know you will always be my favorite." He kissed her cheek and patted her on the shoulder.

"She seems hinky to me, Gibbs. I don't think Tony trusts her at all. You know he's a good judge of character."

One of the things he loved about Abby was her loyalty. She had not liked Tony initially when he came to work with them, but once she warmed up to him, she was in his corner without fail. The only person who she was more devoted to at NCIS was Gibbs, and Gibbs knew it. She would start to trust Ziva if he gave her the okay to do so. Tony was a little more difficult to persuade, but then, he really did not trust anyone completely.

"She's fine. Tony misses Kate. We all do. But we have to get over it and keep working."

Abby nodded. "All right. I'll try. But no promises."

"What are you not making promises about?"

Tony stood in the doorway of Abby's lab, hands casually in his pockets. His posture was also relaxed. But his tone was not.

"Ziva," Abby replied.

"Ahh. Ziva David. Well, she is a puzzle, isn't she? The good Director insists that she tag along on our little adventures, even though she has no clue what she's doing out there. We're compromising crime scenes, and possibly impacting trials in the future if the defense attorneys ever find out that an untrained agent was working with the evidence. She has hacked into our records to get intel on us, possibly to make sure that she knows how to approach us. She is arrogant and angry, and possibly a dangerous assassin wrapped in a pretty little package. But that's the kicker, isn't it? She's wrapped in a pretty little package, and that is the quickest way into Leroy Jethro Gibbs' good graces."

"You accusing me of something, Dinozzo?" Gibbs got into Tony's personal space. He knew his eyes were ice cold, but he was damned tired of his people disrespecting him.

"Nope." Tony backed up a step, although he maintained eye contact. "Just learning to accept your limitations, Boss."

"What limitations are those, Agent?"

"I can count on you to have my six, Boss. As long as someone else's isn't more interesting."

German translations:

Jung Meister=young master

Mausi=little mouse (pet name for a child of either gender)

Spatz=sparrow (also a pet name)

der Herr schützen Sie=the Lord protect


End file.
